On the Road Again
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: After the return of Daniel to SG-1, it's business as usual. Unfortunately for Jack and Daniel, business as usual while visiting new allies means thing go wrong.


TITLE: On the Road Again  
  
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass  
  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.  
  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Heliopolis, yes. Others, just ask.  
  
CATEGORY: Friendship, humor  
  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: PG for some bad language  
  
SUMMARY: After the return of Daniel to SG-1, it's business as usual. Unfortunately for Jack and Daniel, business as usual while visiting new allies means thing go wrong.  
  
CONTINUITY: Very early season 7, but the only major spoiler is for the end of Season 6.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I'm making absolutely no money from this.  
  
NOTES: This story would never have been finished without Taryn's brainstorming assistance and useful plot suggestions. (Not to mention her constant exhortations to "Keep writing!") And my thanks go, as they always do, to Captain Average, the superhero who edits.   
  
* * * * *  
  
A trickle of sweat made its ticklish way down the middle of Daniel's back and he wriggled, wishing he could stop and scratch it. But one glance sideways at Jack killed that plan--Jack's face was closed and set, a frown hovering about his lips. They plodded along.  
  
The blocks of the alien city passed, not nearly as interesting as when the walk began. Now Daniel barely noticed the dresses displayed on racks or the elaborate cakes in the window of a bakery. A passerby drinking what looked like water did catch his attention, though, and he sighed, hoping they'd find another public water fountain.  
  
Jack looked at him. "Not used to the heat anymore, oh deascended one?"  
  
"Not really, no." Daniel chose to ignore the sarcasm.  
  
"Does that mean that next time you'll listen to me?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
A long, hot walk through the city wasn't exactly what Jack and Daniel had in mind when they made their second visit to Arouve. Actually, it was supposed to be a quiet, boring diplomatic visit to pave the way for future trade ties.  
  
Their problems all started with the Tarka Root Fair. But before that...there was diplomacy.  
  
The Arouvians--like the SGC--weren't broadcasting knowledge of the Stargate and aliens to the general populace, even if those aliens were also humans. But--also like the SGC--they were always on the lookout for allies.  
  
So, when SG-1 popped out of their Stargate and looked around in surprise at a facility very like the SGC, the Arouvians met them with some suspicion, but mainly a welcome.  
  
This led to what seemed to be an endless stream of meetings: soulless conference rooms with carefully-placed pens, notepads, and water glasses; noncommittal statements in support of an Earth/Arouve alliance and general technology exchange; and a great deal of what Jack referred to as "diplomatic bullshit."  
  
Daniel really wished he could have left this part to the professionals, but the Arouvians seemed to think the initial meetings should involve SG-1. Teal'c and Sam were slated to join them for their return visit, but at the last minute they were pulled for a meeting between the Jaffa rebellion and the Tok'ra.  
  
"I can't miss an opportunity to visit my dad," Daniel remembered Sam saying, as she checked her weapons belt in the gateroom.  
  
Jack grinned at her, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Better you than me, Carter. Tell the ol' troublemaker hello from me. And hi to your dad, also."  
  
"I will send Master Bra'tac your greetings," Teal'c said, and he and Sam stepped through the gate.  
  
Daniel glanced at Jack, who was watching rather wistfully as the wormhole closed. "They're not going into any danger. And they probably won't have any more fun than us."  
  
"Hmm?" Jack looked at him. "Yeah, I know. I just hate splitting the team up. You know that always leads to trouble."  
  
"What doesn't?" Daniel had said.  
  
He was shaken out of his memories when he realized he was being addressed. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"  
  
"Now that the day's meetings are done, I was inviting you to one of the highlights of the social season," said Minister Jefram Zee, their Arouvian host. "By coincidence, today is the opening of the annual Tarka Root Fair, a grand tradition celebrating our agricultural roots."  
  
"We'd be delighted--" Daniel began.  
  
"We're not really here to socialize," Jack said, shooting Daniel a look.  
  
Zee frowned and Daniel dragged Jack aside to whisper. "Jack, we're not here to offend them, either. This fair's obviously pretty important. C'mon, it'll be fun."  
  
Jack's response was wordless but eloquent--a veritable symphony of facial expression--before he turned back toward Zee. "If you'd like to show us your...fair, we'd be...happy to join you."  
  
Daniel hoped that Jack's twitch as he said the words wasn't as obvious to Zee.  
  
The heat and humidity, as they passed through the wooden doors to exit the government facility, hit them like a wet blanket to the face; Daniel actually staggered slightly, managing a weak smile when Jack looked at him.  
  
As the Minister went to get his vehicle, Jack leaned close. "Hot enough for ya?"  
  
"Jack, it won't kill you to take in a little culture and we might learn something useful. Anything we learn about the Arouvians could be important in the negotiations."  
  
"Oh yeah, you're just in it for the negotiations. Gimme a break." Jack wiped the sweat off his forehead and tugged irritably at the front of his shirt, glaring down at it.  
  
To prevent any unwanted questions, the Arouvian government had decided Daniel and Jack should masquerade as visiting dignitaries from the distant Ruka province...which meant native dress: a silky collared shirt (blue for Jack, green for Daniel) over loose pants in a slightly heavier silk.  
  
The outfit was quite comfortable, really, but Jack looked (and obviously felt) undressed without his guns and some sort of military uniform. Unfortunately, even in disguise, Jack looked like a soldier.  
  
In fact, Jack looked rather amusing, Daniel thought--but sensibly didn't say. He might not be the know-it-all Jack often accused him of being, but through their years of working together, he'd at least learned what Jack did and didn't have a sense of humor about.  
  
Native clothing and the wearing thereof? Definitely a didn't.  
  
Daniel noted with interest that the material of the shirt didn't seem to become as soaked with sweat as would be expected, and made a note to check on what it was made of. Sure, a sweat-resistant shirt wasn't exactly a secret weapon, but it could be handy for the military anyway.  
  
When he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle he looked up. To his surprise, it wasn't just *any* vehicle, but what looked like the local version of a convertible. Long and low, painted the local equivalent of candy-apple red, it even had tailfins.  
  
Zee, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, smiled happily up at them from the front seat. "Is this not a wonderful car?" he asked.  
  
Daniel grinned as Jack's face lit up. "It sure is," the latter said solemnly. They hopped in the car, and although Jack grumbled a bit at the lack of air conditioning, he enjoyed the ride through the city to the fair, leaning back and letting the wind rush past him as he relaxed into the soft seats.  
  
"See?" Daniel said smugly, leaning over the front of the seat to yell over the sound of the wind. "I told you it'd be fun."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The fair was overwhelming.  
  
The smell hit them first, especially after all their time spent in a practically sterile building devoted to bureaucracy: cow-like animals and cooked meats and melted cheeses and a great deal of sweat.   
  
Daniel hadn't expected it on Arouve, it was the smell he associated with their visits to the sort of planet where a mule was considered high-tech. After a few moments of surprise, he forced himself to take deep breaths of the warm and fragrant air, and as always, his nose recovered.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack doing the same thing, nose twitching and one hand tugging irritably at his shirt once more.   
  
The jostling hordes of Arouvians enjoying the day didn't seem to notice anything different about the strangers in their midst, so Daniel decided to relax and enjoy the mix of the strange and the familiar. The temperature wasn't exactly what he'd have chosen, but with all the sounds, smells, and sights, he had to resist the urge to cackle with glee and rub his hands together.  
  
Minister Zee wound his way through the fair with practiced ease, gesturing at points of special interest; unfortunately, due to the noise, Daniel was only catching one word in ten, but he was having enough fun without that. They passed a row of pens containing goats, then stalls containing pottery. Daniel's practiced eye recognized a relative of American salt glazed stoneware, and he admired another stall with fine glassware, delicate and tinted in shades of blue and red.  
  
Jack had to be dragged forcibly away from a stall a bit further on selling decorative knives. Ignoring mutters of "birthday present," Daniel pulled him along behind Zee.  
  
Musicians played enthusiastically--and with varying skill levels--in practically every free space, creating a cacophony of sound. It should have been both deafening and unpleasant, but somehow blended into a backbeat of happiness and excitement.  
  
And everywhere they looked--emblazoned on clothing and glasses and posters--were stylized drawings of a knobbly purple root that looked like ginger. Not the most attractive vegetable ever, but it was certainly popular on Arouve, and it was the primary agricultural crop for this region. It tasted like a peppered potato, Daniel decided as he nibbled on boiled and fried tarka root the Minister bought them.  
  
Finally settling on a location, the Minister found them seats. "The parade should begin soon," he said as they climbed up plastic bleachers to nearly the top.  
  
"Great," Jack said, glancing wistfully back toward the booths. A bit sulkily, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the empty bleacher behind him.  
  
Daniel fanned himself, wishing for a breeze, but eventually settled down to watch the crowd below them--parents and excited children, lovers with their heads together, adolescents jostling for status.  
  
A grin hovered around the corners of his mouth, and he felt bubbly with the excitement. Somehow in the past years of struggle, he'd forgotten the thrill of exploration, of meeting other cultures, of learning instead of shooting.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A small child sitting in front of them nearly spilled his drink over Jack's shoes. "So, tell me again why I'm sweating at the Tarka Root Fair?" Jack asked out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
Daniel concentrated on neither laughing at him nor yelling. "Because the Minister wanted to be friendly and we're here to be nice?"  
  
"So, tell me again why I'm sweating at the Tarka Root Fair?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Daniel wished for the eighteenth time Sam had joined him for this mission instead of Jack. She'd probably have been delighted by the charm of this event. (Granted, she'd most likely be itching to take apart the engines pulling the floats, to see how they were powered. But at least she wouldn't be complaining.)  
  
He decided the wisest course of action was to let Jack stew in his own crankiness, while *he* enjoyed the spectacle. And what a spectacle it was, containing the charm and kitsch of a southern sweet potato festival with the fun of the fourth of July.  
  
Minister Zee cheerfully explained everything, although he blushed a bit when the float of women dressed mainly in small strips of fabric rolled by.  
  
Jack's eyes were half-closed as the parade proceeded, although Daniel suspected he was enjoying himself more than he was willing to admit. After all, the man was always a sucker for enthusiastic children and certainly not immune to the sight of women dressed in skimpy outfits.  
  
It was all terribly cultural and relaxing--if a bit stifling in temperature--until an insistent beeping cut through the raucous clamor of some kind of brass band. Daniel looked around, puzzled, and beside him, Jack's eyes had opened.  
  
"Oh dear," Zee said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black box. "I just knew the office would call. Please excuse me," he said, turning away as he punched a button and held the box up to his ear.  
  
Daniel grinned at Jack and mouthed the words, "cell phone." Jack shrugged and contemplated the sight of jugglers on horseback followed by a swarm of small children doing what looked *exactly* like a hula.  
  
"Is this a circus?" Jack asked. "Agricultural fair? Lunatic asylum?"  
  
"Don't try to analyze. Just roll with it."  
  
A heavy sigh and Jack folded his hands over his stomach. "Can I at least get a beer?"  
  
"Huh. I wonder if they brew beer here. I'll find out." Daniel looked, but Zee was still talking into his box. His ever-present smile was gone, though, replaced with shock. "Uh-oh."  
  
Jack's eyes slid over to Zee and he tensed again. "Damn it, what's gone wrong now? Why don't our missions ever go smoothly?"  
  
Daniel sighed in exasperation. "Why do you assume it's something to do with us?"  
  
"Because it always is. And it usually ends up with us getting arrested."  
  
"Jeez, that's so pessimistic. I knew you were cynical, but when did you get this bad?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know, Daniel, ya think it might have to do with the fact that something ALWAYS GOES WRONG?" He glared, then looked over at Zee, who frowned at the box as he punched some more buttons.  
  
"Is everything all right, Minister?" Daniel asked.  
  
The man seemed to have forgotten their presence, as he looked up in surprise at the question. "Ah, no. No. This is not good."  
  
He was clearly distraught, so Daniel gentled his voice. "What's wrong?"  
  
"My daughter, my only child, light of my life. She's been in an accident," Zee said.  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jack go pale. "How is she?" Daniel asked.  
  
"She is in the hospital," Zee said, fumbling in his pockets. "I must go there, See how she is. Make sure they take care of her. Where did I put my key?"  
  
"Back left pocket," Jack said instantly. When Daniel looked at him, he shrugged.  
  
Zee pulled out his key. "I must go." But when Jack and Daniel stood, he frowned. "No no, you must stay and enjoy the fair. I'll send my assistant to get you. She'll be here soon." And he dashed off into the crowd, disappearing in moments.  
  
They froze in place. Jack was the first to react.  
  
"Well, damn."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Since there didn't seem to be another plan, they sat back in their seats, each consumed by their own thoughts.  
  
Time passed, the sun moved lower in the sky without any apparent lowering of ambient temperature, and sweat beaded and dripped down Daniel's nose and chin. Shifting air brought a salty-sugary-oily smell, then animal manure, then some kind of petroleum product.  
  
When Jack began fidgeting, Daniel knew time to take action couldn't be far behind.  
  
Sure enough, after the eighth time Jack had recrossed his legs (Daniel counted), Jack growled. "That's it, whoever was supposed to get us isn't coming. We've been abandoned in the middle of my worst nightmare."  
  
"I thought your worst nightmare involved--"  
  
"Hey! Let's stick to the point here." People were starting to stare, so Jack lowered his voice to a dull and cranky roar. "The point is, we're stuck in this madhouse with no equipment, no ride, and no communications. I swear, next time they try to take away my radio, I'll tell 'em what to do with it."  
  
Impatient, Daniel tried to drag him forcibly back on topic. "If we've been abandoned, then what do we do now?"  
  
"Does an ascended being really have to ask?"  
  
"Jack..."  
  
"All I'm saying is that you're not all that helpful."  
  
"Would you rather Jonas was here?"   
  
"No, he'd have gotten me stuck here just the same."  
  
"Look, quit the sarcasm and let's just figure out how to get home."  
  
"Haven't you got some all-powerful friend we could call?"  
  
"No, but perhaps you could shoot somebody instead? That always works so well."  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack said and Daniel gritted his teeth. "This isn't getting us anywhere."  
  
"You're telling me," Daniel muttered.  
  
"We can't exactly catch a cab."  
  
"Why not? They've got something like cabs and I'm pretty sure we can explain where we want to go without sounding suspicious."  
  
"No money."  
  
"Oh, right. I guess that would be a problem." Daniel looked around them, as hordes of Arouvians passed by, on their way to the poultry sheds or looking for something to eat.  
  
"Well, unless you suggest we tell somebody who we really are, I think our best bet is to walk back to the building that has the gate." Jack stood, looking pleased to be taking action.  
  
Daniel wanted to be a bit more cautious. "But Jack--" Too late. The other man had already hopped down the bleachers, and he was trotting into the crowds with great assurance. "Damn it."  
  
Pushing through the crowds behind Jack, Daniel tried to remember how they'd gotten to this point, but he'd been so busy making mental notes about the people and the music, he couldn't remember. The booths all looked vaguely familiar, and they spread out in every direction like a tremendous bazaar of color and riotous movement.  
  
"Jack, do you actually know where we're going?"  
  
Without stopping, Jack pointed forward. "This way."  
  
"And *why* are we going this way?"  
  
"Because it looks better than that way."  
  
Daniel stopped. "Hold on. Are you telling me *you* don't know where we're going either?"  
  
Jack stopped a few paces ahead, looking up at the sky--probably seeking patience--then turned and stalked back. Arouvians continued to stream around the two, occasionally sneaking a glance at them.  
  
For a long moment, Jack just glared at him, rubbing the back of his hand along his sweaty forehead. Then, he pointed behind Daniel. "Look over there. No buildings. That's the country." He turned and pointed behind himself. "City. We want the city, right?"  
  
Daniel blinked, looking above the movement of the fair and realized that in one direction lay the tall buildings of the city they'd arrived in. The other held the local equivalent of suburbs. "Oh. Right." He felt like an idiot and could feel his face burning even hotter.  
  
"Then, can we go? I've got a cold shower calling my name." Without waiting for an answer, Jack took a step forward, nearly tripping over a young boy standing directly in front of him. "Whoa."  
  
The boy didn't even flinch, just continued to stare up at them with wide dark eyes, two fingers firmly in his mouth.   
  
"Uh, hello," Daniel said, eyeing the boy's sticky outfit, which looked like the result of widespread application of a gummy, sugary substance.  
  
The boy sucked on his fingers and blinked, an island of silence in the noisy crowd.  
  
"Well," Jack said after a moment, "it's been fun but we've got to be going, kid." He waved vaguely and started to step around him.  
  
Before they could move on, the boy pulled the fingers out of his mouth. "You're lost," he said, with the certainty that only small children can summon.  
  
"Yeeees," Daniel said.  
  
The boy nodded firmly. "So am I. Can I come with you? We can be lost together."  
  
Jack tried to summon up a stern look, but as always, the presence of a child softened him. "I don't think we can take you with us. We're not...from around here."  
  
The boy wrinkled his nose. "Well, *that's* obvious."  
  
Daniel froze, a shiver of concern breaking through his sweat. "What do you mean?"  
  
The boy shook his head impatiently. "If you were from around here, you wouldn't be lost."  
  
Jack looked like he was sucking on a lemon. "Cute kid," he muttered.  
  
"Yeah," Daniel bit his lip and cleared his throat, doing his best to look innocent when Jack looked at him.  
  
"I think we should find my mom. Then we won't be lost anymore."  
  
"Sweet." Jack looked disgruntled, but Daniel knew the decision was a lock. "Fine. Let's find your mom. Where did you last see her?"  
  
The child's face scrunched up and he looked like he was going to cry. "I don't remember."  
  
"Okay, okay," Jack said with alarm. "So, what's your name?"  
  
Face clearing, the boy said, "My name is Biteo, but my mother always says I'm more like a Pef." He waited expectantly, as if for a laugh.  
  
Jack looked at Daniel, who shrugged. "Um, I think the gate doesn't translate puns. It's not usually a problem."  
  
"Great. Just what I needed to make this day better: linguist humor." He turned back to the child. "Look, Biteo, we need to find the lost and found or a policeman or something. It's a big fair and we're gonna need help to find your mom."  
  
"Do you know how to recognize the police?" Daniel asked. "Do they wear a uniform?"  
  
Biteo looked at them as if they were idiots. "Don't you know anything? You're grownups, you're supposed to know this stuff."  
  
Daniel coughed. "Well, the police are different where we come from. Do they wear some kind of badge?"  
  
"Of course not. If they did that, the bad guys could see them coming. That's silly."  
  
Jack took a deep breath. "So how do you recognize the police when you need them?"  
  
"My mom said to my dad once that you'll always know them because they look like 'tax inspectors with bigger poles inserted.' But she wouldn't explain that to me."  
  
As Daniel coughed into his hand, Jack grinned, patting Biteo on the head. "I think I'd like your mom. And don't worry, you'll get it when you're older."  
  
"That's what she said."  
  
Daniel frowned. "Hey, why did that joke translate and the name thing didn't?"  
  
"Don't strain yourself."  
  
Daniel rolled his eyes.  
  
After a great deal more pointless discussion, they set out in search of a lost and found, consulting random passersby, each of whom gave a different answer.  
  
"This is getting us nowhere," Jack said. "Look, kid, which parts of the fair did you visit?"  
  
"Well, we went to see the vegetable show, and the crafts, and the feas racing, and..."  
  
"In that order?"  
  
"Uh-huh. And then we had lunch." Biteo scowled. "And I'm hungry."  
  
"We don't have any food," Daniel said.  
  
"Then get some. I want fried tarka."  
  
"We don't have any money."  
  
Biteo sniffed, scrubbing at his nose. "I want fried tarka."  
  
Daniel groped for an answer, but Jack beat him to it. "And I want a cold shower and a beer. We're both sh--out of luck. Now where did you go after lunch?"  
  
"I went on the rides. There was one that went really fast and I nearly got sick, but I didn't."  
  
"Good for you," Jack said solemnly. "What did you do after the rides?"  
  
Biteo put his fingers back in his mouth and thought. "Then Mom went to buy some plants."  
  
"Did she tell you to stay where you were?" Jack asked as Daniel tried not to laugh.  
  
"Yes." Solemn, wide eyes looked up in all innocence.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"By the spinning teacups."  
  
"Why didn't you stay there?" Daniel asked. Biteo and Jack both shot him looks of disbelief. "Never mind. Let's go. Maybe just this once we'll get lucky."  
  
Jack and Daniel turned toward the rides, and each one taking a sticky pint-sized hand, they went in search of spinning teacups.  
  
Sidling past a display of acrobatics, Daniel ignored a mutter from Jack that sounded suspiciously like, "Hell of a job for special ops."  
  
Fortunately, the games and rides weren't too far away and within a few minutes they were ducking instinctively at the sound of gunfire from a game of skill, and Daniel was turning green at a ride that flipped people upside down.  
  
He caught Jack looking eagerly at that one. "No money, remember?" He hid a grin at the way Jack's face fell.  
  
"So, kid, what does your mother look like?"  
  
Biteo looked up, wrinkling his nose. "I dunno."  
  
"Right. Well, just...look around for her, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Over Biteo's head, Daniel said, "And we'll look for the frantic mother?"  
  
"You got it."  
  
The noise was even louder here, but not as melodious. Screams from the riders, ringing bells, creaking machinery, all blended into a headache of massive proportions. Daniel's temples throbbed.  
  
He scratched the incipient sunburn on the back of his neck, wondering what they would do with a small, filthy child if they couldn't find his mother. For a moment, he imagined stepping through the gate with him, the look on Gen. Hammond's face as Jack said, "He followed us home, can we keep him?"  
  
He giggled a bit hysterically, then clamped his mouth shut, glad Jack couldn't hear him over the noise. Heatstroke, he decided, was just the thing to top off the day.  
  
Just then, something caught his attention and he stopped in order to focus. There, over there, to the right, hadn't he just seen a woman who looked like she'd been crying? She'd disappeared around a corner, so now he wasn't sure.  
  
Jack had seen her too, and he dragged over Biteo, who was trying to scoop water out of a water ride. They came around a large inflatable tarka root, and there she was, moving frantically through the crowds, looking around her, packages clutched to her chest for comfort.  
  
"Mom!" Biteo shouted, dropping Jack's hand and running toward her. Although her face was blotchy with tears, it was nonetheless beautiful when it lit up at the boy's approach. "There you are, Mom!"  
  
She dropped the packages and grabbed him in a hug, long hair falling around him.  
  
For a few moments, Daniel forgot his sunburn and heatstroke and just grinned at the sight of mother and child reunited. Jack had a similar foolish grin.  
  
"C'mon, let's get out of here," Jack said. "With our luck, if we hang around, someone will accuse us of kidnapping."  
  
"Lead the way."  
  
Back through the rides and games they went, Daniel sighing a bit at their 'two steps forward, one step back' progress.  
  
It didn't take Jack's euphoria at returning Biteo long to fade, either. The relentless heat and noise would have worn on a saint--and Jack wasn't even *close* to sainthood, Daniel pondered. Although he occasionally thought if he could get the mission briefings declassified, the Vatican might very well find three miracles in them.  
  
Daniel blinked, rewound that train of thought, and decided to blame everything on the heatstroke.  
  
Jack turned to check on him and scowled when he found him standing in the middle of the path. "Waiting for a ride?"  
  
"Shut up, Jack."  
  
"Then keep moving."  
  
Daniel sighed, and they continued on their way, serenaded by some kind of mutant harmonica. The crowds ebbed and flowed in that inexplicable way humans have--bunching up at random intervals and leaving empty spaces.  
  
They picked their direction and scooted around chainsaw sculptures and icy concoctions. They made it through some kind of political rally with a sigh of relief, but groaned when another crowd confronted them.  
  
With no way to get around that they could see, they dove in, but the mood here was different in a way Daniel couldn't quite pin down--tense, excited, a bit adversarial. All the men--and it was only men in this crowd--were eyeing each other in a somewhat unfriendly fashion. They didn't take kindly to efforts to push through, either, and Daniel could see Jack tense up, jaw tight, body ready for action.  
  
Daniel wasn't nearly as worried, since he doubted it was a Goa'uld attack and little else would worry him at this point.  
  
Jack seemed to be trying to get back out, but countless Arouvians swarmed from behind them, pushing them toward whatever was happening. Before he knew it, Daniel realized Jack was being pushed in a different direction.  
  
He cursed to himself and tried to angle toward Jack; from the looks on Arouvian faces, Jack seemed to be employing his elbows and toes in the struggle to move sideways.  
  
So intent was he on reaching his teammate, Daniel didn't notice when he reached the front of the crowd. Didn't notice, that is, until a large muscular man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.  
  
Daniel yelped in surprise. "What?"  
  
"Didn't you hear the queen calling you?" the man demanded, hunching his broad shoulders and dragging Daniel forward. The crowd parted and men stared at Daniel, a few even patting him on the back.  
  
"Queen? But they--" He cut himself off before finishing the sentence, but there'd been nothing in his briefings about a monarchy, nothing in the meetings, how did the Arouvians...  
  
The man pulled him toward a tent he hadn't previously noticed, elaborately decorated and tasseled. Someone pulled aside the hangings that made up the doorway as they approached, and the men in the crowd shouted unintelligible things. Breath caught in his throat, Daniel wondered exactly what he'd done now.  
  
He was plopped in front of an extraordinary sight: a woman reclining on a scarlet chaise longue, her curly black hair teased until it stretched almost a foot over her head, body encased in the tightest outfit he'd ever seen. It looked like she should be marked "contents under pressure."  
  
"There you are," she said with a laugh. "I've never had one so reluctant before."  
  
Completely at a loss, Daniel simply gaped at the woman, his eyes irresistibly drawn to her tightly packed chest. The size, weight, and shape of that chest were so distracting that it took him a few moments to notice the sign over her head. His unconscious mind translated it, had a quick consultation with his mouth, and he found himself saying, "The Tarka Root Queen?"  
  
"You were expecting someone else?"  
  
"Um, actually..." Daniel trailed off, since there wasn't a particularly good answer to that question.  
  
"Come here, dear." She held out her hand.  
  
Resisting the urge to look around for Jack, he slowly walked toward her.  
  
"Sit down." She patted the area next to her, and he gingerly perched on the edge. She laughed heartily, causing her chest to bobble. "Silly boy."  
  
Daniel dragged his eyes away from her chest again, and looked around. "Silly?"  
  
"Well, you do look like I'm going to eat you, so I think silly is a rather good word, don't you?"  
  
Daniel frowned as he considered how she would react if he explained what usually happened when some woman dragged him aside. "I'm afraid I don't have a good track record with women," he said carefully. "It usually ends rather badly. Messily, even."  
  
She laughed again, the sound oddly muted by the fabric of the tent. "I've never had a king who was so reluctant. I just *knew* when I saw you that you'd be different. How delightful!"  
  
"King?" Daniel asked, swallowing sharply.  
  
She stared at him, eyes narrowing. "Don't you know?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't. You see, I'm not from around here. I'm from, uh, another province."  
  
"Well, I was looking into the crowd and I've selected you to be the king of the fair this year. Purely ceremonial, of course, and just the *best* fun."  
  
She clapped her hands together in glee and Daniel shuddered slightly. "Oh dear," he said, "I'm sure it's quite an honor to be selected, but I'm afraid I just can't accept."  
  
He winced, since this was the point at which somebody usually tried to kill him. He wished Teal'c were here to give everyone the Glare of Doom.  
  
When nothing happened, he blinked. The Tarka Root Queen was looking at bit puzzled.  
  
"You really don't wish to be the king of the fair?" She leaned forward, hands clasped earnestly, and Daniel kept his eyes on her face.  
  
"I'm very sorry, but I'm here with a friend, and we really must be going. Soon. Perhaps you should choose someone else. The crowd looked very eager."  
  
She pouted. "I wanted you."  
  
"That's very...flattering. Really." His mind was racing. "But you should have a king whose heart is in it."  
  
She pouted more, her lower lip actually protruding. "But I--"  
  
Hubbub from outside the tent made both of them turn to look. After a moment, the sounds became a little clearer and Daniel had to resist a grin.  
  
"If you don't [unintelligible], I swear I'm going to [unintelligible]," Jack shouted.  
  
"Ah, I think that's my friend. He can get a bit...anxious when he's worried about me."  
  
She tilted her head and Daniel almost grabbed her hair to keep it from falling over. "Why would he be worried about you?"  
  
"That's a long story, I'm afraid." Daniel winced as Jack started in on the ancestry of the men outside the tent. "Can't we just let my friend in while we discuss this?"  
  
"Oh, fine." She nodded to the men standing by the hangings, who parted them.  
  
Jack pushed through, looking ready to take on a battlefield full of Jaffa. He stopped in his tracks, eyes flickering briefly to the Tarka Root Queen's chest before alighting on Daniel, still perched next to her. Expression somewhere between amused and annoyed, he opened his mouth.  
  
Daniel, thanks to long experience, cut him off. "Don't say it, Jack. Just don't."  
  
"What?" He was all innocence now.  
  
"Whatever witticism you were about to inflict on us." He turned on his perch. "Your...Majesty, this is my friend, Jack. Jack, this is the Tarka Root Queen." Hoping against hope Jack would get the message to keep his mouth shut.  
  
Jack smirked, but managed to incline his head politely.   
  
"I'm sorry, but my friend and I really do need to leave," Daniel said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, it's a long way home and it's probably going to take a while to get there."  
  
"Oh." She started pouting again. "I can't convince you to stay?"  
  
A choked sound from Jack, and Daniel had to fight to keep from gritting his teeth. "No, I'm afraid not."  
  
"Oh, well." She shrugged, which did very strange things to her chest and Daniel felt his eyes crossing. "Fine then, if you don't want to be my king, then off with you."  
  
A grand wave and Daniel said, "Thank you, Your Majesty," with grave dignity and a great deal of relief.  
  
Jack grinned widely as Daniel stepped off the platform toward him. "Now can I--"  
  
"No."  
  
They exited the tent, pushing through the surprised crowd.  
  
"What about--"  
  
"One more word and I'll have General Hammond keelhaul you when we get back."  
  
"Keelhauling is Navy. I'm in the Air Force."  
  
"Whatever."   
  
Jack chuckled and Daniel stomped forward, suddenly and unreasonably fed up with the whole situation.  
  
The sun seemed to be stuck halfway set and the relentless heat wore on Daniel's increasingly fragile temper. The sweat trailed over his eyebrow, dripped off the end of his nose, and gathered on his chin, making him feel like he'd been dipped in the Dead Sea and left with a mineral crust.  
  
None of the Arouvian crowd seemed to notice the heat particularly and Daniel was sure he should find that interesting, but honestly, he couldn't find the energy. The universe narrowed to sweat, heat, crowds, noise, and following Jack's back through the fair.  
  
So, it came as something of a surprise when the booths ended and they found themselves smack dab in the middle of the city. They came to a stumbling halt, dazed and momentarily confused, looking around at the quiet side street. Behind them, the sounds of the fair were already fading, ahead were rows of stores and cars.  
  
Daniel scrubbed his sticky face, taking a moment to think about a nice cool shower. "Well, onward and upward, I guess."  
  
Jack didn't respond, just started walking.  
  
Sighing, Daniel followed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A trickle of sweat made its ticklish way down the middle of Daniel's back and he wriggled, wishing he could stop and scratch it. But one glance sideways at Jack killed that plan--Jack's face was closed and set, a frown hovering about his lips. They plodded along.  
  
The blocks of this alien city passed, not nearly as interesting as when the walk began. Now Daniel barely noticed the dresses displayed on racks or the elaborate cakes in the window of a bakery. A passerby drinking what looked like water did catch his attention, though, and he sighed, hoping they'd find another public water fountain.  
  
Jack looked at him. "Not used to the heat anymore, oh deascended one?"  
  
"Not really, no." Daniel chose to ignore the sarcasm.  
  
"Does that mean that next time you'll listen to me?"  
  
"Oh no." Daniel stopped in his tracks. "You're not pinning this on me. If we'd offended the Arouvians by not--"  
  
"You mean you haven't learned how to politely say no? What? Ascended beings don't have Miss Manners?" Jack shouted, running one hand through his hair. Sweat made it stand on end, giving him a clownish look.  
  
"Damn it, Jack, I'm tired of getting this crap from you. Don't five years of going through the Stargate with you get me any slack?" He realized he was yelling back, but couldn't stop.  
  
"You're the one that left with your buddy Oma and then just dropped back in."  
  
"That makes it sound like I was on vacation!"  
  
"Well, you certainly weren't doing *us* any good!"  
  
"I explained--"  
  
"Oh, you explained all right." Jack's face was red. "It just sounded like a load of bullshit."  
  
"You can take that attitude and..." Daniel trailed off, realizing they'd attracted an Arouvian audience.  
  
Jack glared at the spectators, but before he could say anything, two men materialized at the front of the group. One tall and dark, the other short and fair, they wore clothing that was severe and not very flattering. Daniel had a sinking feeling he knew what they were.  
  
"Now, what's all this commotion about?" the taller man asked.  
  
"My friend and I were having a private conversation," Jack said, oblivious.  
  
The two men glanced at each other, one looking down at a notepad in his hand while the other stepped forward. "Well, sir, I'm afraid you'll both have to come with us."  
  
"Ah, officers," Daniel said before Jack could speak, putting as much emphasis on the second word as he could, "we're terribly sorry. We didn't mean to cause a disturbance."  
  
But the police were shaking their heads. "We've had two reports about you," the short one said, "and we have orders to bring you in."  
  
Jack groaned, but looked resigned. "Why me?" he said to the sky.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Gently banging the back of his head against the concrete of the wall behind him, Daniel pondered the quixotic nature of humanity throughout the universe. "You'd think," he said, eyeing the metal bars and spartan bunks, "that some culture would think it was a good idea to play music or maybe leave a deck of cards in their cells. Checkers? How much damage could prisoners do with checkers?"  
  
Jack didn't respond from his cell across the hall, where he sat on the flat bench, arms crossed and staring at the wall in front of him. Only the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blink showed he wasn't a statue. Well, that and the general air of 'I'm pissed as hell' that he exuded.  
  
"I mean, who knew that the only true human cultural universal--besides 'people do the darndest things'--would be jail cell design?" Daniel went on, desperate to fill the silence. "How many jails have we been in by now? Fifty? A hundred? And the only thing different is whether the floor's made of mud, straw, or cement. Even the food's the same, no matter how advanced or primitive the culture."  
  
Slowly, ponderously, Jack's head turned to look at him, and Daniel said weakly, "At least this jail's air conditioned."  
  
When Jack's face didn't change at all, Daniel shut up. An uncomfortable silence reigned, but he was unable to sit still, tapping his foot, twiddling his thumbs, bouncing a leg.  
  
After an interminable period, Jack finally spoke. "Daniel?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If you don't stop moving, I *will* shoot you when I get my gun back."  
  
"Right."  
  
Daniel took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on staying still and enjoying the air conditioning. His mind wandered over the day: the meetings, information that General Hammond needed to know, the festival, the parade, Minister Zee leaving, Biteo...why, he could almost hear the kid's voice--  
  
Daniel's head shot up when he realized it wasn't his imagination. Through the bars, Jack looked just as surprised as he felt.  
  
"What the f--"  
  
Several adults clumped down the hallway, their voices a background murmur to Biteo's clear and piercing comments. "Why are we here? Isn't this where you put bad guys? Where are the bad guys? Can I see some? Huh, Mom, can I?"  
  
As one, they turned to stare at the door, which was pushed open by Biteo, bursting through like a small, filthy rocket. He grinned happily when he saw Jack and Daniel and pointed. "Here they are!"  
  
Mom followed her son through the door almost immediately, followed by two jailers, tall, dark, and grim-looking. "Are you sure?" one of the latter asked, somewhat dubiously.  
  
"This is them," Biteo said firmly. "They were at the fair."  
  
Mom stepped forward and looked them both over, and Daniel sighed as he thought how incredibly disreputable they probably both looked. He groped for something to say, something to get them out of the kidnapping charge he was sure was coming. Jack rubbed his face, looking too tired to care.  
  
"Thank you," Mom said.  
  
Daniel's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry?"  
  
"Thank you," she said, a wide smile covering her face. "Thank you for returning my son to me. He can be quite a handful, and I thank you for taking the trouble."  
  
"Uh, you're welcome?" Daniel wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do now.  
  
"So," Jack said, "does this mean you're gonna let us out of here?"  
  
The two jailers frowned at him. "Well, there's still the other matter," said Number One.  
  
Jack and Daniel looked at each other, trying to figure out what else they might have done in a few hours on this planet. "The arguing in the street?" Daniel said, hazarding a guess. "Because we're really sorry--"  
  
"No," Jailer Number Two said. "The government says that you're to be apprehended at all costs. They're sending someone to pick you up right now."  
  
"What?" Jack asked, incredulous. "I don't believe it."  
  
Daniel went back to pounding his head against the wall behind him.  
  
"I don't know what you did, but they really wanted you caught," Number Two said, looking suspiciously at both of them.  
  
Pound. Pound. Pound.  
  
Biteo scowled up at the officer. "They're not bad guys, why are they still in jail?"  
  
"A good question," Jack said. "I knew you were a smart kid."  
  
Pound. Pound. Pound.  
  
"Young man, I'm sorry, but it's..."  
  
"...don't wanna..."  
  
"Lady, do you think you could get a message..."  
  
"But *why*?"  
  
"It's certainly the least..."  
  
"...think I can..."  
  
"...the hell can we do?"  
  
Eyes closed, Daniel let the arguing wash over him.  
  
Pound. Pound. Pound.  
  
It was actually rather restful this way.  
  
But there was more noise traipsing down the hallway, a commotion loud enough to be heard over the pounding and the arguing. On previous form, of course, it was probably somebody come to execute or torture them.  
  
Daniel wondered if Oma was hanging around and laughing at him. After all, just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean the universe *isn't* out to get you.  
  
More footsteps in the hallway, voices raised in an argument, one of those voices very familiar.  
  
Daniel stopped banging his head and looked at the doorway. Surely that was...  
  
"I demand that they be released at ONCE," Minister Zee shouted, dashing into the room.  
  
All conversation stopped and Zee looked around, hands on his hips. "Well? What are you waiting for?"  
  
"Uh..." Jailer One said, looking a bit stunned. "We can't just let them go. We've got these orders--"  
  
"You idiot!" Zee said, waving his hands. "I'm the one who *issued* those orders."  
  
"Huh?" nearly everyone in the room said.  
  
"You weren't to *apprehend* them, you were to *find* them after I lost them." Zee turned to look at Jack. "I, and the rest of the government, apologize for the inconvenience." He turned to Daniel. "This has all been a terrible misunderstanding. When my assistant failed to find you, we became concerned for your safety."  
  
"Sweet," Jack muttered.  
  
Gathering scattered wits, Daniel managed to choke out some polite words. "We're certainly very pleased to see you, Minister. And now that you're here, we can sort this all out."  
  
"We certainly will." Zee turned and glared at the two jailers, who contrived to look rather ashamed.  
  
"Minister?" Jack called, and Daniel winced, wondering what an exhausted and cranky Jack would say at a moment like this.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How's your daughter?"  
  
Daniel blinked, having utterly forgotten the reason for this whole mad adventure.  
  
Zee smiled, his entire face lit up. "She will be just fine."  
  
Jack nodded. "Glad to hear it. Now let's get the hell out of here."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Much hustling resulted in their immediate removal from the cells, more thanks from Biteo and his mother, a sticky hug for each of them from the youngster, and a chance to at least wash their faces and get something quick to eat before heading back to Earth.  
  
Still apologizing profusely, Zee escorted them to a quiet back room, and ordered several worried-looking police to fetch various things.  
  
Too tired to even raise a fuss, Daniel let himself be chivvied and cosseted. A cool drink in his hand and some kind of a sandwich in front of him, he let his mind coast on neutral.  
  
But despite his best efforts, his mind insisted on waking every few minutes to worry about some things. He shot a look at his companion across the table, who hadn't looked at him since they were released. The silence finally got to him.  
  
"What'd I do, Jack?"  
  
"Do the words Tarka Root Fair mean anything to you?"  
  
"Not just today. You've been mad at me on and off since I...came back."  
  
"What the hell do you expect?" Jack looked up at him. "You take off, ascend, whatever, drop back in now and then to say cryptic things, but don't do jack shit, then when you finally take action, you get Skaara and everybody killed. I'm supposed to be filled with mindless joy?"  
  
Daniel had to take a few breaths before he could speak. "I...I didn't...They're not...I thought you wanted me back on the team. Why didn't you just leave me--"  
  
"Goddamnit, of *course* I want you back on the team, you're part of SG-1 and my friend. That doesn't mean I can't be pissed off!"  
  
Daniel stared, for once in his life absolutely, positively speechless. Astonished. Gobsmacked, even.  
  
"Oh. My. God. Do you mean I've been worrying and you've been *sulking*?"  
  
Looking deeply affronted, Jack frowned at him. "I don't sulk. I...do something else."  
  
"I don't believe it," Daniel said, shaking his head. "The big, bad Col. O'Neill, terror of the trainees, is sulking like a big baby."  
  
"Jesus, Daniel, I think I've got a right to be upset. Do you know how much trouble I went to in order to break Jonas in? And then you up and return."  
  
Daniel choked, staring at the other man in disbelief before it slowly dawned on him that Jack was kidding. "You...you...asshole."  
  
Jack grinned. "Okay, I'm sorry, that was cruel." He sobered. "The whole ascension thing was disturbing. Just when I think I've dealt with the weirdest the universe can throw at me, you come up with something new."  
  
"I really am sorry about what everyone went through. I didn't mean...well, things just happened. Got out of control."  
  
"That happens with some regularity in our jobs." Jack sighed, once again just looking tired.  
  
"True." Daniel considered his team leader for a long moment. "So, are we okay now?"  
  
"We're okay."  
  
Daniel fiddled with his knife, exhaustion returning as the adrenaline of arguing with Jack faded away. Despite a full stomach, the effects of the day left him feeling weak and a bit hollow.  
  
"Guess it's time to go home," Jack said, draining his glass of juice.  
  
"I can't wait."  
  
"Yep, it's time to go back to Earth and tell them all about our fun day."  
  
Daniel winced. "All about it? Can't we leave out certain parts?"  
  
"Oh no. No, I'd never leave something out of a mission report." Jack grinned at him. "After all, you never know what details of their fascinating culture might be important and help us in our negotiations with the Arouvians. Isn't that why we came?"  
  
Daniel put his head down on the table and groaned.  
  
--end-- 


End file.
